


Sickness

by TheClaireWitchProject



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Chicken Noodle Soup, Cuddling, Edward Kenway makes everything better, Fluffy, Modern times, Oneshot, Sick!Reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-09
Updated: 2015-07-09
Packaged: 2018-04-08 12:50:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4305756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheClaireWitchProject/pseuds/TheClaireWitchProject
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You wake up with a terrible cold. Luckily for you, your boyfriend Edward is going to take care of you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sickness

**Author's Note:**

> I am very, very sick today and I've been obsessively playing AC4 for the past couple of weeks. Naturally, those two things combined culminated into...this fanfic!

The first thing you were aware of when you cracked your eyes open that morning was the parchedness of your mouth and the soreness of your throat. Careful not to wake the slumbering lump curled around his pillow beside you, you slowly sat up, a hand pressed tenderly to your throat. Your skin felt feverish under your touch and you couldn’t help groaning as your body protested even the slightest movement.

Your whole head felt like it was stuffed with mucous, putting just enough pressure on your head to make it ache like every other part of your body. Moving your hand from your sore throat to your cheeks on either side of your nose, you pressed down and massaged in hopes of alleviating some of the pressure in your sinuses. All it really did was make you sneeze one of your (as Edward liked to call them) “elephant sneezes.” “You could wake the dead, lass,” he’d teased you the first time he witnessed it.

There was shuffling next to you, then a throaty, sleep-laced utterance of your name. You turned to the source, guilty for having awoken him, and there was Edward looking at you with bleary eyes half lidded, brushing the loose locks of hair from his face. After a moment to assess your appearance, he asked, “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” you tried to say with a smile, but it was weak at best.

He mumbled, “Liar,” as he moved to sit up. He pressed his hands to your burning cheeks and forehead. The temperature disparity between his skin and yours made his hands feel like ice and you welcomed the cooling touch with a weak, rumbling groan. “Jaysus, you’re burning up.”

“I’m fine,” you repeated. In spite of your insistence, Edward rose from the bed. “Go back to sleep.”

“Nonsense. I’m gonna go make you some tea and some soup.” He didn’t bother getting dressed, just left the room in his pajama bottoms after securing his hair into a low ponytail.

You didn’t bother arguing. As stubborn as you could be at times, he was even more so, and your illness made your resolve run out much faster than was typical. Lying back down, you curled into the sheets and pillows, trying to ignore the aches and the growing urge to cough your lungs out. The occasional swear you heard hissed from the kitchen kept you at least slightly entertained while you waited.

It wasn’t but fifteen minutes later when Edward returned with a tray of the aforementioned goods. As you sat up and he settled the tray on your lap, you were presented with a steaming bowl of chicken noodle soup, crackers on the side, and a warm mug of tea (peppermint, according to the teabag label dangling on the side) in which there floated a single wedge of lemon.

Edward pressed a kiss to your temple and told you, “I’ll be back, jackdaw. We don’t have any bloody cold medicine so I have to go buy some.”

You huffed at the blond’s favored nickname for you. “Edward, you don’t have to-”

But he was already heading to the closet to change. Lacking the strength to object, you started crumbling crackers into your soup and you took a testing sip of the tea. Not too hot, the liquid soothed your throat and you took a few more greedy swigs of it.

“I won’t be gone long,” he promised before he made his way out the door.

The soup and tea were gone soon after. They helped a little, but not nearly as much as you needed to stop feeling as though you were dying. A shower would be nice, you thought, and you dragged yourself out of bed to shamble over to the bathroom, leaving a trail of clothes in your wake.

The warmth of the water rolling down your sore, taut frame tempted you to stay in the shower for the whole duration of your illness. It felt too good to step out, though you knew eventually the water would run cold and Edward would likely get pissed over the astronomical water bill.

Lessened but still very much present, the aches left you feeling fatigued. They seemed to accumulate in your back, making it hard to stand for long. You weren’t sure exactly when you crumpled on the floor of the shower, curled up into a ball. You just happened to notice it some minutes later.

“Ugh, I’m dying…” you mumbled pitifully to yourself, suddenly glad for Edward’s absence. You hated the idea of him seeing what an unraveled mess you’d become, all from a little cold. An evil, painful, energy-sapping cold. “Goodbye, world. Rest in peace, me…”

You closed your eyes and a split second later, felt someone shaking you, frantically calling your name. With a groan, you cracked your eyes open and saw Edward hovering over you, concern etched into his features and water rolling off of his upper body. Confusion settled on your face at first before realizing you were still in the shower and the water was now running cold. Seeing you shiver under the water’s frigid touch made Edward realize he should probably turn it off and he quickly fiddled with the knobs.

“Are you alright? What happened?” Edward sounded worried and he was checking to see if maybe you slipped and hurt yourself. With no blood or bruising evident, he calmed a slight degree.

“I’m sorry…” you mumbled weakly. “I laid down and I guess I fell asleep.”

“It’s alright.” Edward reached for a nearby towel and wrapped it around you, coaxing you to stand. Thinking you might collapse on the way, he helped you over to the bed, where you immediately crawled into the warmth and safety of the covers until you disappeared from sight completely.

“Eddie, I hurt.” He hated the nickname, you knew. You were granted the privilege of being the only person allowed to call him by that name, but you still used it sparingly, even if it seemed a fair trade for him calling you “jackdaw” all the time. Overuse would make it less special.

“I’ll go get the medicine.”

Quicker than either of you thought possible, your arm flew out from under the covers and you grasped his thick wrist. “Wait. Stay here, please?”

He relaxed under your grip and you released him when you felt a weight join you on the bed. A few seconds of shifting later, he tugged down the covers to free your head and you saw he was now lacking any clothing from the waist up. He laid with you, pulling your feverish self into his comforting arms. Voice lowered to a gentler tone, he asked, “Where’s it hurt, love?”

“My back…” you wheezed, your words billowing as a hot cloud against his neck.

Edward hummed in acknowledgement and redirected one of his hands to press it into your back, taking care to be gentle as he began to rub. “There?”

“Lower.” You almost moaned when his hand slid down the curve of your spine to massage into the small of your back. “Yeah, that’s the spot…”

His touch was pure magic, you concluded, when your aches and pains dissipated under the smooth glides of his hand. Your throat still bothered you and you had an occasional spell of coughing, but at least Edward seemed to have your whole-body aches under control.

The shower cleared your sinuses enough for you to faintly catch a whiff of Edward’s scent; the pleasant musk of his cologne mingled with the cool saltiness of ocean water that perpetually clung to him despite beach trips being a rarity. Nuzzling into his neck, you breathed in his familiar aroma while he lulled you into a restful sleep by palming circles into your back and tickling the side of your face with his stubble as he whispered sweet nothings in your ear.

It wasn’t clear how long you slept but you assumed it had been awhile. Edward was still there massaging your back, his strokes gone lazy and absentminded.

“Edward?” you asked softly.

He didn’t stir, didn’t even pause in the languid circles on your back. “Hm?”

“I’m...sorry.”

Raising a brow, he pulled back to regard you with a puzzled expression. “For what, jackdaw?”

“I’m such a handful when I’m sick.”

With a soft chuckle, Edward buried his nose into your hair. “Don’t worry about it. You could be in a vegetative state for all I care. I’d still take care of you.”

His words made you smile and you truly had to convince yourself the heat in your cheeks was purely from the fever. “And you could be a lazy bum named Edward Kenway for all I care. I’ll be there for you.”

You felt Edward scowl but when he pulled away, the amusement glittering in his eyes was undeniable. “In that case, I don’t suppose you’d want to watch a movie with this lazy bum, hm?”

Knowing Edward, you were certain you could guess which movie it was. Regardless, you decided to humor him and you asked, “What movie is it?”

A playful grin curled his lips. “Pirates of the Caribbean.”

Just as you suspected. You didn’t mind, though. Anything was a good excuse to cuddle in bed all day, even if Edward had to periodically pass you tissues for your runny nose and you frequently paused the movie for him to fetch you various medicines.


End file.
